Marcus bristled, but Seraphina’s gaze was a steel trap. She never blinked. Kael kept his eyes on the table, jaw clenched hard enough that a vein jumped in his cheek.
“Enough,” he snapped, the word knifing through the noise. “This is the last time we talk about this in here. We have more important things than gossip and paranoia.” He swept a hand across the table, nearly knocking over the little wooden pieces that marked troop movements. “Edmund’s men take ground every day, and we argue over who likes who?” His words hit Alina like a fist in the stomach.
Marcus didn’t flinch. “Loyalty matters. If you don’t seethat—”
“It matters less than surviving the week,” Seraphina interrupted. “Besides, the only people fanning the flames are the ones hoping for a promotion when the dust settles.”
Seraphina sounded as if she were above the rumors and the talking. How cunning she was.
Kael looked up, those beautiful eyes of his blazing. “If either of you has proof in one direction or another, bring it to me. If not, drop it. Now.”
A tense silence fell, punctuated only by the tick of a draft sneaking through under the door and the low hum of torchlight.
Then, a pounding at the door.
A young scout barreled in, face streaked with mud and something darker. He looked about twelve, but his eyes were already old. “Captain,” he gasped. “It’s the safehouse. Hazelwood. Royal Guard—they found it. It’s—” The words broke apart. “They’re killing everyone.”
The room exploded.
Marcus went straight for the list of available men, belllowing names and orders in rapid succession. Seraphina tore a length of parchment from the wall and scribbled a missive, folding it so tight her knuckles turned white. Kael moved like a man struck by lightning—one hand on the map, the other on the hilt at his belt, as if he could draw both sword and plan at the same time.
“What about the fallback routes?” Kael snapped.
The scout shook his head, breathless. “They’re already blocked. Someone tipped them off.”
A heavy, ugly silence fell, the kind that thickened the air and made everyone look anywhere but at each other.
From the far end of the table, a voice cut through the din. “How’d they know where to look?” A few heads turned, eyes sharp and glittering. “Who knew the location?”
For a second, Alina hoped that maybe they would just keep talking, that her presence would be ignored the same way it always was these days.
Instead, every eye in the room tracked her with needlepoint precision.
Maven, lurking near the sideboard with a stack of parchments in his arms, stepped out of the shadows, his smile a knife wrapped in velvet. “Curious, isn’t it, how often our luck turns sour since we’ve been hosting our guest of honor.”
Every vertebra in Alina’s neck tightened. “I didn’t—” she started, but Maven rolled over her words.
“Of course not. You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, every single time.” He cocked his head, eyes flashing with a cold amusement. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Kael slammed a fist onto the table, making the map jump. “Enough! Get out, all of you. Seraphina, take the scout and draw up the relief plan. Marcus, gather the ready men and get them to the north tunnel.” He jerked a finger at Maven. “Shut up and get out of my sight.”
The room cleared with a speed that bordered on the miraculous. Only Kael, Alina, and the faint smell of scorched wax remained.
Kael turned to her, his shoulders stiff, expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Alina tried to swallow, but her throat was a fistful of sand. “I didn’t tell anyone,” she said, voice cracking. “I never would. I don’t know where that safehouse is. I don’t even know where these cavesare, for the love of the Gods! How would I even do that? How would I get messages out and in? How would I get in contact with anyone?” She’d gotten louder with every sentence. She was breathing heavily.
He exhaled, the anger draining from his face to leave only the fatigue of a man with the fate of far too many placed upon his shoulders. “I know,” he said quietly. “But knowing and convincing everyone else are not the same thing.”
She looked at the ground, shame flaring in her chest, hot and bitter. “What should I do?”
Kael glanced at her, then back at the chaos of the map. “Stay safe,” he said, then softer: “Don’t give them any more reasons to doubt you.”
She nodded, but even as she turned to leave, she knew it would never be enough.
From the corridor, she heard Maven’s voice, already at work, already laying the next trap: “…every time, she’s at the center of it…”
The words stuck to her like mud, and no matter how hard she scrubbed, they would never come off.
